


It's Time

by proudlyyours



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Family, Fluff, clarke and lexa with a kid, talk of babies, they're awesome moms, this is cute and family oriented
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:19:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proudlyyours/pseuds/proudlyyours
Summary: It's Clarke and Lexa's son's first day of preschool and they're a little emotional about it.





	It's Time

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon on tumblr who sent the dialogue prompt 'I feel like I can't breathe'.

The bedroom door opens, creaks softly, and then closes again with a click but Clarke doesn’t register it. Tiny, bare feet shuffle across the floor and Lexa sighs, unaware. The room is all oranges and yellows, dust motes dancing lazily in the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains, and all is still. Even the little boy that’s now stood watching his moms sleep.

It doesn’t last long.

“Mommy?” the boy tries, leaning his face close to Clarke’s, brushing dainty fingers through her hair. 

Clarke shuffles, wrinkles her nose and nuzzles it into the pillow again. Her consciousness slips once more but her son is nothing if not a determined soul. He nods his head to himself before beginning his second attempt, voice louder, more firm.

“Mommy? Mommy, you have to get up.” He pats at her cheek this time. His hand is warm, a little clammy, and Clarke stirs again.

“Wha’sup, Sammy?” She finally opens her eyes and finds his bright blue ones waiting to capture them.

“Mommy!” Sam says brightly, happy to have finally gained her attention. “It’s time, it’s today! Mom, Mom, you have to wake up too!” 

Lexa, having been summoned, moves beside Clarke.

“Do I?” she mumbles and Clarke’s tired, so so tired, and yet she can’t help but smile.

“Yuhuh, you do,” Sam insists, standing on his tiptoes to peer over Clarke at Lexa. “You said I can get up when the little hand gets to the six and look-” he picks up the clock on Clarke’s nightstand and taps at the plastic with his finger- “it’s gone past the six now.”

Clarke rolls over to look at her wife.

“Why did you have to teach him that?”

Lexa is sleep-ruffled, hair wild on the pillow around her, and she has a fabric crease in her left cheek. She’s smiling and Clarke can feel it all the way through her. “To stop him coming in even earlier.”

Clarke looks back at their son as Lexa presses a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“OK, we’ll get up.”

Sam beams and begins to jiggle on the spot. His hair’s a mess from sleep – he’s a real fidget – and it waves in time to his movements. They really should have got it cut ready for today. At the weekend, Clarke thinks, they’ll get it cut at the weekend.

“Yes!” 

“Just give us a minute.”

“A real minute or a long, Mommy minute?” Sam asks, giving Clarke a sceptical look. It’s amazing that he’s perfected that expression at such a young age but their son is often quite the wonder. While time is still an elusive concept to him, he’s beginning to pick up on a few things, even if he hasn’t mastered tracking its passing quite yet. The other morning he’d made Lexa time how long it took Clarke to come downstairs when she said she’d be a minute. It took her four and a half.

Lexa laughs. “He’s got you there, Clarke, your minutes tend to be a lot longer.”

“Shush, you,” she chastises, pushing herself to sit up. “A real minute, Sammy, just one, OK?”

“OK,” he sighs, forlorn. “A real minute.” And he traipses out of the room. Clarke watches him go, he looks so tiny in his little plaid pyjama set. Her throat starts to constrict and she knows it won’t be the last time that happens today.

“I’m going to miss him,” she says quietly, and Lexa heaves herself up to sit next to Clarke.

“Me too.”

Lexa presses another kiss to Clarke’s shoulder, to her cheek, and then to her lips when Clarke turns her head, seeking more. Her throat is still aching and her eyes are beginning to sting so she presses harder into Lexa, willing Lexa’s touch, her taste, her tongue, to alleviate the sadness inside her.

They hear footsteps on the stairs, more than two feet galloping closer, and they break apart, chuckling.

“Here comes trouble,” Lexa intones and, not a second later, the door bursts open.

“It’s been more than a minute,” Sam says, not slowing from his run until he reaches the bed and leaps onto it, their dog at his heels.

“Oh no,” Clarke says as Pepper, their rather large German Sheppard, follows Sam onto the bed. 

It’s not long before they’re all giggling as Sam jumps up and down and Pepper rolls on her back, legs flailing, excited and panting. The earliness of the hour, their tiredness, and Sam’s impending adventure is forgotten for a moment as Clarke grabs her son and begins tickling his sides, Lexa pushing herself up onto her knees to pull Sam into her lap to double the effort. Sam laughs and shrieks with glee and Pepper jumps to her feet, barking at all of the noise and wanting to join in.

Clarke clings to it all but, ultimately, it’s useless.

It’s not long before they’re leaving the house. Lexa, ever the punctual one, is heading out to the car as Sam says goodbye to Pepper, looping his arms around her neck and hugging her tightly. Clarke smiles at them, her eyes clouding over for what is now the third time this morning, and admires the patience with which Pepper treats Sam. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and then looks her straight in the eyes. With Pepper sat and Sam stood, they’re pretty much of a height with each other.

“I’m going to school today, Pep, but I’ll be home later, I promise. Then we can play ball in the yard, yeah?”

Upon hearing the magical ‘b’ word, Pepper cocks her head and her tails brushes back and forth on the carpet as she wags it with excitement.

“Come on, Sammy, we need to get going,” Clarke urges and Sam turns to her with a face full of excitement.

“I’m ready,” he tells her and picks up his rucksack from beside the door.

Clarke watches him swing the bag over one shoulder, calm as anything, and all she can think to herself is _I’m not._ But she has to keep it together. 

For Sam.

 

*

 

Clarke and Lexa go into the classroom with him. They greet his teacher, a middle-aged woman with a stern bun pulling her greying hair back from her face but soft, kindly eyes. They’ve met her before, her name is Mrs Peterson, and Clarke knows their son is in good hands. He’s joined the other kids that are sitting on the carpet together, showing off various toys they’ve brought from home, and he’s smiling. He’s comfortable, Clarke can tell. Lexa holds onto her hand as they watch him, her grip firm and steadfast. 

None of this makes it any easier. 

They mustn’t make a big deal of leaving him, Clarke knows that. They call goodbye to him and he runs over to hug them both. Clarke presses a kiss to his cheek and bites back the sob that tries to claw its way out of her throat. She can’t even watch as Lexa crouches down to hug him next. She’s always so gentle with him and with the way Clarke feels right now, she knows it’ll shatter her. She takes a deep breath instead and looks around the room at the bright colours, the little cubby holes, the tiny chairs. She holds it all in.

For Sam.

When they close the classroom door behind them, it’s a relief.

Clarke leans against the wall, letting her head fall back against it, and her eyes close. It’s cold and solid. Grounding. Everything’s fine. Sam’s fine, she’s fine and Lexa’s-

“Clarke,” a strangled voice rips her eyes open, pulls her from the wall. Lexa’s in the middle of the hallway, her arms wrapped around her middle.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Clarke rushes to her, put her hands on her arms.

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Hey, hey,” Clarke coos, hands going to Lexa’s cheeks. Her eyes are wide, her breathing unsteady. “It’s OK, look at me, Lex. Please.”

And Lexa’s wavering eyes lock with Clarke’s.

“He’s going to be fine,” she tells her, holding her gaze to make sure she believes it.

“I know,” Lexa says, nodding. “I’m not sure I am, though.” She gives a breathless laugh. Her eyes are filling with tears and Clarke breaks in two.

“Of course you are, we can do this together. We’re going to go home, we’re going to enjoy the peace and quiet for a few hours, and then we’re going to come and pick him up again. OK?”

“OK.”

Lexa’s hugging Clarke before she even has a chance to ask if she needs one and she feels the dampness of Lexa’s cheek pressed into her neck.

“I can’t believe he’s at preschool already,” Lexa says quietly. “Before we know it he’ll be a moody teenager and yelling at us to buy him a car and coming home wasted and then he’ll be graduating and going off to college and-”

Clarke pulls away and finds Lexa looking a little frantic. She smiles, she can’t help it when their eyes meet, and they laugh at the same time. It’s a sad laugh, but it helps a bit. They both know Lexa’s being overdramatic, it’s what she does. 

The tension in Lexa eases and Clarke brings her hand up to a tear-streaked cheek, wipes the wetness away with her thumb.

“I think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself there, Lex. He’s only three.” She also seems to have a very pessimistic view of what their son is going to become but that’s a topic for another day.

“Almost four,” Lexa adds when Clarke hesitates. “It’s gone so fast already.”

“I know, sweetie, I know. But he’s still our little boy, he always will be.” Clarke presses a light kiss to Lexa’s lips and then takes her hand. “Come on, let’s go home.

Clarke drives and Lexa doesn’t say another word.

Pepper’s at the front door waiting for them when they get back to the house but she quickly loses interest when she realises that Sam isn’t with them.

“He’ll be home soon, girl,” Clarke tells her, giving her a sympathetic pat on the head. Pepper huffs and slinks off into the living room. Sam has always been her favourite.

The house is so quiet without him, Clarke can’t help but notice. It’s a bit of a mess, too. They’d spent a good ten minutes earlier looking for Sam’s missing shoe, digging through toy boxes and cupboards until they found it tucked up in Pepper’s bed with her favourite bear. They hadn’t had time to straighten up before leaving.

Everything feels empty as Clarke and Lexa wander around tidying slowly, seeming to share the need to pace more than actually being intent on their chore, but eventually they settle. They sit at the kitchen table and drink coffee together, the only sounds between them the humming of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock hanging on the far wall. Clarke hadn’t realised that it was so loud. It’s kind of annoying.

She misses Sam’s incessant chatter around the house but it’s more than that, she’s realising. It’s felt like something’s been missing for a while now. She misses him relying on them for every tiny thing, misses how he used to cling to them, and even how he’d cry whenever they tried to put him down. She misses their baby but he’s not their baby anymore. He’s a kid now, he’s growing up. And fast.

“Let’s have another one,” Clarke says, staring into her cup. She hadn’t been aware she was going to say anything at all but once it’s out, it all makes sense.

_Of course._

“Another coffee?” Lexa questions. “OK, but don’t complain at me when you can’t sleep tonight.” She moves to get up but Clarke finally looks at her, puts a hand on hers, and she stops.

“No, another kid.”

“You…” Lexa frowns. “What?”

“We’ve always said we want more than one kid, so let’s have another one.”

Lexa frowns for a while longer, eyes deep and searching as they bore right into Clarke. 

“You want to have a baby?”

“I want to have a baby,” Clarke confirms. She nods her head once for emphasis. 

And then, finally, it happens. 

Lexa smiles. 

She smiles wide and beautifully and her eyes are sparkling with tears, which makes them look more blue than green, and then she’s up on her feet. She’s on her feet and leaning down to capture Clarke’s lips in a kiss that sears all the way through her.

“Let’s do it,” Lexa whispers against her mouth, and Clarke kisses her again. She stands up, never parting their lips, and pushes hard against Lexa, needing to quench the deep feeling building inside her.

“You’re sure?” Clarke can’t help but ask, even though she’s loath to slow things down at this point.

“I’m sure, Clarke. It feels like…” Lexa hesitates, bites at her lip, and Clarke wants to kiss her again but she also wants to hear the end of that sentence.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s time.”

Lexa’s smile tastes amazing.

They fall into a rhythm again, slow at first but quickly reaching its crescendo. Their bodies are singing and this is leading somewhere, today. 

_Finally._

“Upstairs?” Clarke prompts.

“Uhuh.” And Lexa’s tongue is on hers once more and fingers are digging into her hips and everything in Clarke is tightening.

Clarke has Lexa undressed and on their still-made bed within minutes. She’s hovering over her, fingers dancing on the inside of her thigh as Lexa draws out their kisses, pulls on her lip with her teeth, and whimpers into her mouth. They’ve learned to be swift and quiet over the last few years, pressing intimacy in small moments with the constant risk of interruption. It doesn’t take them much build up to get to where they want to go these days. Not that it ever really did, they just don’t often get the time to drag it out like they used to. 

Today, they have time. Clarke’s definitely going to make the most of it.

She slows the kiss even further and encourages Lexa’s vocalisations, enjoying the way the sound vibrates through Lexa’s chest and against her own, how she tastes different when she’s breathing so heavily with desire.

Clarke’s surprised when Lexa breaks the kiss.

“I wish we could make a baby like this,” Lexa practically sighs out, hands running up Clarke’s back softly before her touch becomes more forceful and she pulls Clarke even closer. Clarke can feel Lexa's desperation in the contracting of her muscles, in the way her breath stutters against her cheek when she presses kisses to her ear, her jaw, her neck, and in how her legs spread a little wider when fingers drag higher up her thigh.

“Oh, we can try,” Clarke says, lips against Lexa’s ear, and she gives a soft laugh even though she’s gutted that they actually can’t do just that. But while insemination is an impersonal, sterile, and lengthy process, she has her wife pliant and pleading beneath her so she’s going to do everything but.

She kisses Lexa deeply, spelling out both her love and regret with a skilful, tentative tongue, and when she slips inside her it doesn’t matter that they can’t make a baby this way. Nothing matters.

Lexa is rendered breathless for the second time that morning, for a much happier reason than the first. And then, mere minutes later, a third, too. They have to make the most of their time alone, after all. It’ll be gone again soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated and if you wanna come and yell about Clexa and their babies you can do so on [my tumblr](http://proudlyyours.tumblr.com/ask). I can't get enough of 'em. Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
